


Inconstancy

by j520j



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: 1930s, After-Constant, Fluff and Smut, Growing Old Together, M/M, maxwil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j520j/pseuds/j520j
Summary: Wilson and Maxwell managed to escape from Constant and now live together on earth. But the scientist feels fear and apprehension in the real world.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Inconstancy

The car skidded on the wet dirt road, the wheels slid in the mud dangerously. But Wilson managed to regain control of the steering wheel without hitting the tree. For a moment, that adrenaline rush of being so close to a, potentially fatal, crash made him feel nostalgic.

It was September 1938. Seventeen years had passed since he had escaped Constant. He was no longer young, not at all. He had just turned fifty in April, crossing the 'wrong side of the fifty' line. The white strands on his hair and the expression marks clearly showed his age, especially when he grew his grey beard. Even so, he still kept his senses sharp and his head was more inventive than ever. It was a good time to develop new technologies.

The scientist parked in front of his home. After almost two decades, it was no longer endless forests that surrounded his residence. The local town had grown and it was possible to see, after the woods, the silhouette of the city. Wilson was no longer a hermit. Well, he hasn't since he returned from Constant. He came accompanied.

Maxwell was living with him all those years. After the survivors escaped the Constant, each one followed their paths. Some went back to their old days, like Wigfrid, Wolfgang and Wendy, but Maxwell had nowhere to go. Like a time machine, you cannot return to an earlier point in time when you turned it on. If he returned to 1906, he would only be killed by the San Francisco earthquake.

When Wilson offered him his home, the magician could hardly believe it. After everything the scientist had been through, was he still willing to offer shelter to the Englishman? Of course, Maxwell had no choice. What did he intend to do? Go back to 1915 with his niece Wendy? It would be great to be able to see his brother again, but how would he’d explain the years of absence?

In the end, the two men reached an agreement that was good for both of them. Maxwell still needed some time to adjust to the new days, so he and Wilson would be roommates in the meantime. But the relationship has evolved more than just friendship. Truth be told: even before Constant, the two men had already been emotionally and physically involved. Both wanted to believe that it was just a thing of the moment, driven by the loneliness and despair of living in Constant. Nothing more.

But now, especially when Maxwell returned to work as a performer (not as a magician, thank you! Magic never again!) in radios and plays, he was already well inserted in the world again. He had even saved some money so that he could rent an apartment just for him and thus get on with his life.

But Wilson could never let him go.

"Max?" the short man entered the house, removing his coat and hat that protected his wild hair. "I’m home."

"Hmm." was the reply from the studio. The former magician spent most of his time there when he was not out, doing his jobs. Wilson entered the place.

Maxwell was on his back, sitting on a chair. His white hair fell down the back of his neck, disappearing into the collar of his black robe. He was reading, a pair of glasses over his eagle nose. He, too, had aged. He was a 58-year-old man now. In fact, he was lucky. If he had aged every year of his life since 1906 he would be 73 now. Blessed be Constant and his absence of time.

And speaking of time...

"They want me to design a new airplane model." the scientist said, placing his hands on the Englishman's shoulders and giving him a fond kiss on the top of the head. "I don't know if I want to do this."

"Is that part of the pre-war efforts?" Maxwell put a hand on his shoulder, taking one of the scientist's hands and kissing it on his knuckles. "Do you still feel bad about this?"

“Well, truth be told: science will always be used for the war. There is no escaping that. There is no science that is not bellicose.”

"Hmm." the older man murmured. "I didn't see the Great War, but you had a dramatic presentation of it, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Wilson closed his eyes. He was already in the United States when Europe boiled. And the news of the massacre, the visceral photos of the bodies, the mutilated and disfigured, and the death toll haunted him. His entire generation was marked by conflict, even though he never stepped onto the battlefield. "I almost don't want to believe that everything is going to happen again!"

“Unfortunately, it’s a little late to stop The fascists now. I heard that Churchill is going to run for prime minister, but I don't know if that will help diplomacy. Mainly because Asia is also in turmoil and threatens to enter the equation.”

“Roosevelt also doesn't seem to care much about the situation. The impression I have is that he wants a new war to happen as soon as possible! It has something to do with improving the economy and expanding the industry… at the cost of human lives.”

"Sad times, I'm afraid."

"Yes... I almost miss Constant."

Maxwell turned his head to look Wilson in the eye, an expression of indignation on his face.

"I'm just kidding!" the scientist raised his hands and smiled shyly. “Well, at least I doubt the war is going to get this far. We will be safe, I think.”

"Right." the taller man closed his book and got up from his chair. Despite his age, he still kept his back straight, showing his full height. But the truth is that he was already beginning to bend slightly in moments of distraction and relaxation. "Dinner?"

"Sure, I think there are some leftovers in the icebox."

"You mean 'refrigerator', you old man!" Maxwell chuckled.

"Hah, look who's talking!"

The two men had dinner, showered and went to bed. It was a simple routine, strictly followed for all those years. After so long living with Constant's insecurities the two found that they enjoyed the routine. Wilson used to stay up late in his lab, while Maxwell lay in bed reading until he fell asleep. But that night, the scientist was needier than ever.

"I want you." he said, laying his head on the older man's chest.

"Sure, pal." Maxwell said, putting his book down and stroking the scientist's hair.

The two had already done that dance so many times that they hardly needed to think. It started with a chaste kiss, deepened little by little with the fencing of the tongues. Each knew what the other wanted, at the right time, without having to ask. When the scientist started to take light bites on the Englishman's lips, it was a sign that he wanted to be taken from behind.

Wilson knew that Maxwell's libido was no longer the same – neither the scientist’s, in fact - but the tall man never refused his advances. If one night he felt particularly tired, he would let Wilson do all the work and just lie in bed, waiting to be ridden. It was not the case in that night.

The two were already in their bathrobes after showering, so there weren't many clothes on the way. With his long, sly hand, Maxwell undressed the shorter man with a simple movement. He lowered his face to the hairy chest in front of him, licking and caressing the nipples. A trail well known by both. The tip of the aquiline nose knew how to graze the skin in a way that always made Wilson's little toes curl. The hot, humid breath in the navel region, going lower and lower, until the former magician takes the scientist in his mouth.

"Ah...!" he already knew that feeling, but it always felt like it was the first time. Wilson laid his hand gently on Maxwell's grey hair. His fingers intertwined in locks of silver. A gentle brushing of his nails on the older man’s scalp, just to give him the right incentive. "Max..."

With his hands, he gently pushed the scientist's legs open. The movement was careful, as both were no longer spring chickens. Wilson no longer had the same elasticity as before, but he made sure to stay open and accessible as much as he could.

He brought his hands up to the back of his thigh, lifting his legs and exposing himself completely to Maxwell. With a chuckle, the tall man's tongue came down to the balls, making a small circular motion around the entrance. Wilson yelped, like an excited teenager. Maxwell loved that sound.

Soon after, there was the sound of the bedside table drawer being opened and the sound of a lid being unscrewed. The Englishman took some lube and rubbed it on his fingers. He didn't even need to look to know what he was doing, as his hand trained by years of practice already knew the way. He already knew exactly where to touch, where to rub and when to penetrate the first digit.

He lifted his head and kissed Wilson on the lips. The taste of the scientist in their mouths. The shorter man sighed deeply and, dropping his legs for a moment, brought his hands up to Maxwell's neck and back. He pulled him close, biting his lips harder. Sometimes, due to his ardour, he ended up drawing blood from the Englishman - but Maxwell didn't care.

Wilson laid his full back on the bed, pulling Maxwell along with him. He again brought his hands up to his legs, in a clear sign of impatience. The older man just smiled and, with one last kiss, grabbed the scientist's waist and started to position himself in front of his entrance. He sheathed his dick on the first try. So much practice.

"Aahhh... M-Max...!"

“Yes? What do you want from me today, love?”

"Everything!"

Maxwell laughed. They both knew that the request was absurd. You cannot give everything to someone who already has you completely.

The thrusts were slow, but steady. The older man had to keep an eye on his back. Wilson threw his arms above his head, keeping himself as vulnerable as possible. He wanted to be vulnerable, he wanted Maxwell to use him brutally and violently, as he had done before.

As the two had done before at Constant.

The scientist covered his red face with one arm, trying to prevent Maxwell from seeing his grimace. It wasn't because of him, it was because of the memory. And it wasn’t a bad memory, although their first time was a little melodramatic, almost a hate sex. Tired, hurt, emotionally unstable, the two men had sex like animals in the middle of the forest. That day, they would never expect that experience to be repeated again.

And again and again and again... over and over. In that place where time never passed.

The place where time never passed... Constant.

"Max...!" Wilson exclaimed, raising an arm. "C-come h-here!"

Surprised, the taller man slowed down and approached the scientist's face, allowing himself to be kissed. That position was bad for his back, but he was almost finished. Both were almost finished.

And it was with a hoarse groan, feeling the trembling of the muscles and the moisture that invaded his interior, that the two gentlemen were done.

Maxwell relaxed his body, his head lying on Wilson's sweaty chest. The two men were catching their breath while gently stroking each other bodies. After a few minutes, moving slowly and sliding out of the scientist, Maxwell said:

"You are crying."

"Uh?" the scientist raised his hand to his eyes. It was difficult to know what sweat was and what tears were. "It’s nothing."

"It’s because of the war?" the Englishman's voice was already contaminated with drowsiness.

"No, love. Is nothing, really." he pulled the taller man to the top of the bed, wrapping him in his arms and kissing his forehead. “Sleep. You worked hard today.”

"Hmm."

Maxwell fell asleep almost immediately, his long limbs entwined with the shorter man's body. Wilson smiled. Generally, sleeping in that position would mean a cramp in the morning, but it would be worth it.

He ran his fingers through Maxwell's silver hair. Hair so beautiful... every day changing from silver to snow. The time was relentless in earth and was on the heels of the two gentlemen. And humanity, as always, did everything to make life in that place - that they had no idea how precious it was - become more difficult. War... war never changes.

Wilson missed Constant. Sometimes he almost wanted to go back there.


End file.
